


Control (or lack thereof)

by UniverseInk



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Rape/Non-con, Poison Ivy's Pheromones, sex pollen is a horrible trope and heres why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26041171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseInk/pseuds/UniverseInk
Summary: It’s not really that Dick has a list of which Gotham rogues he likes the most, but there are definitely some he doesn’t hate as much as the others. Harley’s downright charming when the Joker doesn’t have his claws in her, and the Riddler’s always a good change of pace. Poison Ivy isn’t exactly harmless, but in Dick’s opinion there are worse options for an Arkham breakout.Or at least, thatwashis opinion until she yanked off his rebreather and blew a new strain of her pheromone spores in his face.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 19
Kudos: 278





	Control (or lack thereof)

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: References to past rape, character experiencing a flashback, mild dissociation
> 
> I hate the sex pollen trope with a fiery passion, it removes a person's ability to consent and should not be considered sexy

It’s not really that Dick has a list of which Gotham rogues he likes the most, but there are definitely some he doesn’t hate as much as the others. Harley’s downright charming when the Joker doesn’t have his claws in her, and the Riddler’s always a good change of pace. Poison Ivy isn’t exactly harmless, but in Dick’s opinion there are worse options for an Arkham breakout. 

Or at least, that _was_ his opinion until she yanked off his rebreather and blew a new strain of her pheromone spores in his face. 

Dick slams his escrima into her stomach, flipping away. He stumbles, his back hitting the crumbling brick of an old building. He can already feel his body reacting as he fumbles for the antidote in his utility belt. His skin flashes hot and cold, his mind starts to get fuzzy, and all he can think is _no, please no._

The fight is still going on. Dick can barely track it, definitely can’t control his limbs enough to pitch in. Then, as if in slow motion, Dick watches Ivy reach for Tim’s rebreather. 

“ _RED!_ ” he screams. 

Tim whirls, bo staff knocking Ivy’s reaching hand away. Damian kicks her knee out, and Bruce gets in a clean hit, knocking her unconscious. 

Dick curls in on himself. He doesn’t want to feel like this, hates the knowledge of what he might let someone do to him in this state. He can feel hands on him, Catalina’s voice in his ear, telling him to lay back.

“Nightwing.”

Dick’s head shoots up. Bruce is in front of him, reaching a hand toward his shoulder.

“ _Don’t touch me_ ,” Dick snarls, flinching back. “Don’t… _please_ don’t.”

“Okay, I won’t touch you.” Bruce lifts his hands to where Dick can clearly see them. “Have you administered the antidote?”

Dick nods. 

He’s in Gotham, not Blüdhaven. He’s standing with his back pressed against the wall, not laying on a rooftop. He’s with his family, not Catalina. It’s _not_ happening again.

Now if only someone could tell his brain that.

“Okay, good,” Bruce is saying. “I’m going to call the Batmobile, you’re going to get in, and I’m going to drive you back to the cave remotely. You’ll be alone in the car, and Agent A will have a secure containment unit ready when you get there. No one will be able to get to you until this has passed. Does that sound good?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Dick sobs. 

Bruce presses a few buttons on his wrist computer, says something into his comm. Dick’s not sure what, he’s too busy trying to convince himself that there are no hands on him. 

The Batmobile arrives, and Bruce moves out of the way so Dick can climb in. Just as the top slides shut over him, Dick hears Tim’s voice.

“Is he going to be okay?”

Dick curls up in the passenger seat, running through the grounding exercise Dinah taught him. He can see the boots of his uniform, the sleek black dashboard, the city lights blurring past the windows, the blue glow of the buttons, and the steering wheel turning itself.

He can hear the purr of the engine, sirens in the distance, his own labored breathing, and quiet music from the radio. 

He can feel the seat under him and against his back, the stiffness of the domino around his eyes, his own legs pressed firmly into his chest. ( _Catalina can’t be touching him, he’s curled up around himself, it can’t be real_ )

The Batmobile glides to a stop in the cave. The roof pulls back and Dick climbs out. Alfred is there, standing a few yards away.

“This way, Master Richard.” He gestures for Dick to follow him, staying in full view as he walks several paces in front. He stops outside the door of the containment unit, stepping aside so Dick can enter.

The door slides shut behind him, locking with a _thunk_. In any other circumstances it would be ominous, but all Dick feels is relief. In here, no one can get to him.

“Is there anything I can get you?” Alfred asks.

Dick shakes his head.

“Very well. Master Bruce wishes me to inform you that Poison Ivy has been returned to Arkham, and he is on his way back to the cave with Masters Timothy and Damian. I will be nearby should you need me.”

Dick offers a wobbly smile. “Thanks Alfie.”

“Of course, my boy.”

Dick curls up on the cot, back pressed firmly to the wall, and breathes.

By the time Bruce knocks on the window of the containment unit, Dick is fully grounded in reality. The pheromones are wearing off, but he’s still a little fuzzy, his body still flushed.

“How are you holding up?” Bruce asks.

“Better now,” Dick answers.

“Good. We were able to get a sample of the new strain, so we’ll be able to formulate an antidote. Are you still feeling the effects?”

“A little.” Dick sighs. “How are Tim and Dami?”

“Uninjured, but a little shaken up. Not that either of them will admit it.” He rolls his eyes.

Dick laughs. “Bit hypocritical there, B.”

“Yes, Batman’s emotionally repressed, we’re all aware.” Bruce smiles softly. “Can I get you anything?”

“Uh, change of clothes? I’m definitely gonna need a shower.”

Bruce nods. “We’ll need to put you through decontamination just in case. Any specific clothes you want?”

“Comfy clothes.” Dick shrugs. “Something baggy would be best.”

“Of course. Anything else I can do to help?” There’s an understanding look in Bruce’s eyes. He knows, probably, why Dick reacted this way. They don’t really talk about it, but Buce knows what he’s been through. 

“I’m not really hungry, but I should probably eat.”

“I’ll have Alfred get something together. Whenever you’re ready, use the control panel to open the door to the decontamination showers. I’ll be working down here for a while longer.” 

“Okay.” Dick smiles. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome, son.”

When Dick steps out of the containment showers, a pile of clothes is waiting for him. Soft flannel sleep pants, fuzzy socks, and an oversize black hoodie with a yellow bat symbol across the chest. It had been a gift to Bruce from a highly amused Clark. Dick had promptly stolen it. 

It had been huge on him when he was twelve, and it still hangs loose on his shoulders, slightly tattered cuffs trailing past his fingertips. 

He wanders out into the cave, padding quietly on socked feet. Bruce is on one of the couches Steph had insisted they bring down here, frowning at a tablet. He looks up as Dick approaches.

“Feeling better?” he asks.

“Much.” Dick flops onto the other end of the couch. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Alfred sent your brothers to bed, I’m sure he’s asleep by now too.” Bruce gestures to a covered plate on the table. “He left you that.”

Dick pulls the plate onto his lap and picks at the food. He’s still not really hungry, just bone tired. He manages to get about half of it down anyway.

He sighs, putting the plate back on the table and twisting around to lean his back against the arm of the couch and put his feet in Bruce’s lap. Bruce sets aside his tablet, resting a hand in Dick’s ankle.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

Dick hums. “I dunno. I guess I probably should.”

“Only if it will actually help you,” Bruce reminds him gently. “You don’t have to talk about it just because I asked.”

“No, I know that. I just… I know that talking about it will make me feel better, but…”

“But it’s hard,” Bruce finishes simply. “I get that.”

Dick nods. “I hate not being in control like that,” he says. “Cause I knew that if someone tried something, I wouldn’t be able to stop them. Like… like I couldn’t stop Catalina.”

“It reminded you of your trauma.”

“I had a flashback,” Dick explains. “I could feel her touching me.”

“I’m sorry, that must have been awful.”

“It was.” Dick tugs at a loose string on his hoodie. “And thank you, for uh, handling it so well.”

“I’m glad I could help.” Bruce rubs his thumb across Dick’s ankle. “Is there anything more I can do, if something like this happens again?”

Dick shrugs. “There’s this grounding exercise Dinah taught me, one where I name five things I can see, four things I can hear, and so on.”

“I’m familiar with it.” Bruce nods. “You want me to walk you through it?”

“Yeah, if I ever… get like that again while you’re there.”

“I can do that.”

Dick hums. “I’m tired.”

“You can go to bed, don’t feel like you have to stay up with me.”

Dick snuggles into the couch. “Nah, I’m comfy.”

Bruce laughs quietly. “Alright. Don’t blame me if you wake up with a stiff neck.”

“Oh, I will,” Dick mumbles, already drifting off. “Love you, B.”

“I love you too.”

Dick wakes up a few hours later with a throw pillow behind his head, a blanket covering him, and his feet still in a now-snoring Bruce’s lap. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @merc--ury (main) or @transrobins (batfam/dc)
> 
> Please comment or leave a kudos if you liked this


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